Thursday, September 01, 2005

Mary Dixon carries her two-month-old grand daughter (name not given) in front of the New Orleans Superdome in the hurricane-ravaged city August 31, 2005. REUTERS/Jason Reed

Of all the hurricane stories out today, this one made the horror the most real to me -- and it is not even from New Orleans:

BILOXI, Miss. -- Once Hurricane Katrina passed, Angelia Johnson thought life would return to normal. But for many Gulf Coast residents, the aftermath of the storm has been a long wait for little help.

With her two children in tow, Johnson spent two hours at the Save-A-Lot grocery store Wednesday, standing in a line that stretched around the corner. People had heard that the store was giving away food. All Johnson got was a package of Pampers and a 24-pack of warm canned sodas.

Her family had not eaten for three days. Her clothes were dirty and wet. Her children wore the only thing they had--1-year-old Larry in a diaper and 3-year-old Shirley Ann in a pair of soggy pants.

"My children have never had to do without," Johnson, 22, said almost apologetically. "But we don't have anything. There is no milk for the baby, no clothes, no deodorant, no hair stuff. The storm messed up everything."

. . .

When store employees came out to empty water-soaked fruit and vegetables into a crate in front of the store, dozens of people rushed up, knocking each other out of the way to grab what they could. They went home with handfuls of apples, oranges and other items, most of which probably were unsafe to eat.

Lena Mae Stanton had another idea. She decided to try the trash bin at the side of the building. But as soon as she got there, others came. They picked out what wasn't soggy or rotten before the store employee asked them to leave.

"I was trying to see what kind of food I could find," said Stanton, 59, who has no food at home for her six grandchildren. "I got some apples and oranges. I know it's probably not safe, but I will wash them off the best I can."

People like Johnson didn't have much before Hurricane Katrina devastated the Gulf Coast on Monday. Now they have nothing. Scavenging is how they are trying to survive, at least until the government and aid workers bring in food, water and ice.

. . .

Johnson, her husband and two children are sleeping on wet beds in their apartment. Much of the roof is gone. Windows are broken. There is no air conditioning and no working toilets.

Her husband is disabled, but he does what he can. She has heard about FEMA, but she isn't counting on anyone to rescue her. No one came to her rescue when water trapped her family on the second floor of their apartment during the storm.

She had nowhere to go before the storm. And she has nowhere to go now.

"A lot of people told me FEMA would help, but I don't know who he is," she said. "I don't even know where to find him to get some help."

We can hammer our moron Preznit who this morning told the world: "I don't think anybody anticipated the breach of the levees." But for now, just go click on the Red Cross ad on the right of the page.

What is this blog for?

This San Francisco purveyor of graffiti has it right. When times are bleak -- when country and planet sink under the barely restrained sway of greed, raw power, and fear -- it's time to restate what matters.

I write here to preserve and kindle hope for a national and global turn toward multi-racial, economically egalitarian, gender non-constricting, woman affirming, and peace choosing democracy that preserves the habitability of earth for all. There's a big order -- but what else is there to do but struggle for this? Not much.

Topics range from the minuscule to the transcendent to the global, from dire to delightful. I am not an optimist, but I refuse to allow myself to wallow within the easy bias that everything is going to always be awful. Good also happens; love lives too.

I've been yammering here about activism, politics, history, racism and other occasional horrors and pleasures since 2005. I intend to continue as long as the opportunity exists. In this time, that means activism and chronicling resistance. Perhaps it always has, one way and another.

About Me

I'm a progressive political activist who runs trails and climbs mountains whenever any are available. I've had the privilege to work for justice in Central America (Nicaragua and El Salvador), in South Africa, in the fields of California with the United Farmworkers Union, and in the cities and schools of my own country. I'm a Christian of the Episcopalian flavor; we think and argue a lot. For work, I've done a bit of it all: run an old fashioned switch-board; remodeled buildings and poured concrete; edited and published periodicals, reports and books; and organized for electoral campaigns. Will work for justice.